


A Cross To Bear

by THA_THUMPP



Series: twd s05- | rickyl drabbles [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Episode: s05e08 Coda, Heartbreak, Hurt Daryl, Hurt Rick, M/M, Mid-Season Finale, One Shot, Rickyl, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2699690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blood sears Rick's eyes more than the gunshot does his ears, and at first he doesn't know what happened. Only that it wasn't supposed to go down this way. It wasn't part of the <em>deal</em>. She wasn't supposed to <em>die</em>...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cross To Bear

**Author's Note:**

> The look on both Rick and Daryl's faces broke our hearts and opened the floodgate to our tear ducts... #RIPBethGreene

Red. For a split second that’s all Rick sees.

One drop of blood, right there in his eyes and he curves. But only long enough to thumb above his nose, and after a brief glance at the color he’s looking back. Stunned and robbed blind of the answer to his question of what the hell just happened. The same goes for Daryl, and for a minute they both just stare.

Beth, she…

When reality comes reeling back everything’s almost in slow motion for Rick. He’s in shock, complete and utter shock. He can see it mirrored on Daryl’s face, just as he can feel it in his own heart. In his veins, all pumping weak like they’re mucking bottom. His breath, all but one inhale, real slow and shallow like there’s not enough room in his lungs for much more.

But there is, Rick just can’t bring himself to breathe when his eyes fall on Beth’s body, crumpled and lifeless against the hospital tiles. Not when there’s a bullet hole covering the spot he’d just kissed, where his lips’d just brushed against her golden hair with a receiving whisper.

Christ. She was just with him. By him. Behind him – _in front_ of him, inches away from leaving with her people. Her family. Daryl, and now she’s de—

The word doesn’t come for Rick, the hall seems to steal it right from under him, and it only gets harder with the eerie still. The recession, one spanning from both sides, friends and enemies alike. All with identical expressions, and all speechless. _Speechless_ because they just saw an angel shot down in cold blood.

Beth Greene. A sweet, innocent girl with a heart bigger than Atlanta City.

No words can reason the loss. That’s all Rick can think as the woman, Dawn, finally looks back his way. It’s all he _lets_ himself think as he watches her face drain with her mistake and a load of regret, as her lips begin to open and move with something like an apology – sick justification.

 _I didn’t mean to_ , they say. It’s worded clear as day. But all Rick does is read them. He’s not listening, not really, not when it doesn’t changes things.

Right now there’s no voice loud enough to snap him awake from the nightmare he’s in, all that’s staying with him is the stale gunshot. The ringing in his ears, the anger… the _pain_.

It’s everywhere, in everyone. Wringing their hearts like a towel. Ghosting their spirits like a prayer. Prickling their throats like they’ve been trying to swallow nails for the last few seconds, and churning their stomachs like they’re full of acid. A burn Rick can already feel making its way to his eyes, the corners, where he knows it’s bound to eat away just as deep – which it does.

In that instant Rick’s eyes are burning for it all. Revenge. Grief. Misery. All he has to do is pick one. But just as he lifts his hand, his gun just shy from leaving its holster, someone else takes the shot in his stead, someone as badly hurt as he is… if not more.

Daryl rushes forward, handgun already pulled from the front of his belt in an aim. He’s acting on raw emotion, his instincts, the mood, whatever the man damn near wants to call it, and once Daryl pulls the trigger everyone can hear the emptiness he’s feeling – in their ears and sense it in their bones.

The shot echoes throughout the hall like it was just blasted into a tub full of water. It’s a hollow noise, one that strikes a chord and shakes everyone where they stand. Those just staring in disbelief and those now drawing their guns, and without much effort the chaos overpowers whatever sound comes from Dawn’s body when she drops. Dead.

The bitch’s dead, but there’s no right in Rick’s mind, all the man feels is deprived. Curtailed two bits above defeat and frustration with how things just played out, with watching from the sidelines. With the shot…

 _It wasn’t mine to take._ Deep down Rick knows that, and thinks maybe at some point he can accept that.

After all, he wasn’t close to Beth like Daryl was. He wasn’t with them when the prison fell. He wasn’t around to see them share their strengths and drink to their weakness, let alone give each other a reason to keep going. To keep faith, to survive, to look ahead for a brighter tomorrow.

But not today. Not right now. ‘Cause simply _knowing_ doesn’t stop Rick from feeling bent out of shape. He’s angry. He’s lost. But most of all, he’s still ready to take the shot, a shot, _any_ shot.

Rick wants to shoot and his finger’s about a stone’s throw from clamping down on the trigger like he intends to. But that’s all it stays as… a _desire_. There’s no longer a target for him to hit anymore – just a hall of phony cops, bellowed pleas, and lowering guns.

The other side means to surrender and they show it by standing down first, nice and easy, screening they mean no harm with a little raise to their hands. But there’s some hesitation from Daryl, Rick can see that from where he’s standing, just like he can see the man’s resolve losing ground.

Daryl’s arms are weakening with his hold, a hold grooming the firearm’s grip with every pace he puts against the tiles. Man’s broken, whimpering like a small boy who’s just lost something precious, beloved. _Dearly loved_ , and it’s not until Carol walks up close enough to touch his back that Daryl gives into a series of sobs. Two, then three by the time he’s sinking to his knees.

It’s a sight that breaks Rick’s heart, and after a second it’s his turn to slump his gun. Willingly or not, his shoulders just can’t seem to stay high. They’re shaking, like his vision. Eyes blanketed with tears so fierce he already knows them to be puffing, eyes that soon drop to the blood pooling on the floor, to Beth. But he can’t stare long…

Rick’s still all kinds of choked up on his emotions. As leader he knows he shouldn’t be, and tries to take control when he can. In short bursts and deep breaths. ‘Cause it’s something he can’t get past just yet. It’s something he doesn’t _understand_ – why Beth said what she said, why she did the things she did, and knowing he’ll never get the chance to ask is what hits him the hardest.

But it’s also what makes his decision to leave the hospital seem so easy.

Grady Memorial… They can’t stay here, Rick tells himself. It’s no better than out there, with the dead, but that’s where he’d rather be. That’s where he’d rather take his chances, walking, and since it’s his call he’s making it – struggling but pulling through. With or without new faces they’re leaving, and when all’s said and done Rick motions for his group to get ready to retreat. Then takes his first step forward… towards Daryl.

“Hey…” Rick whispers, voice low like he’s trying to float an idea, not push it. Not if the man isn’t ready.

‘Cause Rick’s been there. Daryl. Tyreese. They’ve _seen_ him there, taken by sorrow, but Rick’s not one to preach. They all lost a friend today, family, and everyone grieves differently. Rick’s just hoping Daryl’s not about to shut him out.

“Let me help.” Rick says, and Daryl snivels.

It’s wet but there’s some acknowledgement to it, and for a minute Rick thinks that’s good. It’s a start. But just as he reaches out to touch Beth’s body Daryl snuffs real deep and shakes his head. His lips’re trembling, his nose red, but what Rick wants to see most are the man’s eyes. Except he can’t, they’re too far gone behind his hair.

“I…I got ‘er.” Daryl nigh on chokes. His shoulders are bowed like his head, his hand inches from stopping Rick’s, who takes it as a sign to ease up. Goad him now and he’ll strike, Rick knows the type.

“Al’right.” Rick nods as he pushes off his knees and moves away, to the end of the hall where he stays just long enough to watch Daryl scoop Beth into his arms and stand.

It’s a tricky rise, one with a lot of tries and huffs, but once Daryl steadies his footing he’s holding Beth like glass. It’s an image that has the tears back in Rick’s eyes, but before any can fall he turns around and signals the others to head back the way they came. Down the stairs and out the front doors of the hospital without looking back, leaving Daryl to follow at his own pace. ‘Cause everyone understands.

Beth Greene was Daryl Dixon’s conscience, just as she was his savior – a reminder of something good. Something good now gone, but in the end someone strong. _Strong_. That’s what Beth was, and it’s what the group has to be now, which isn’t going to be easy with their new cross to bear. But they’ll make it work.

They have to… If not for her, then for each other.


End file.
